Paris Will Break Your Heart
by Fishoutofwater2.0
Summary: Clopin Trouillefou has grown accustomed to dealing with the wild, free spirited young Esmerelda. But how can he possibly help this time? The city of Paris is a dangerous place. Soldiers lurk around every corner. A madman searches for the hidden Court of Miracles. And Esme's current flame is captured and set to hang come daybreak. How can the gypsy king fix this mess?
1. Chapter 1

**I own only the characters Tadeo and Renaud, who we will meet later on.**

* * *

Chapter 1: Sanctuary and a Falsely Named Palace

"Clopin!" The urgency of the voice, rather then the volume was what woke him. When he opened his eyes, he found a slight, shaking figure had jumped into his bunk with him.

He knew who it was, though his heart did give an involuntary kick at being awakened so suddenly. And he realized quite quickly that he would have much rather been allowed to sleep. The night's revelries had lasted late into the night. It could onlyhave  
beena few hours since he'd dragged himself to bed. The hangover had already begun. Clopin didn't usually regret drinking during one of the late night parties the gypsies tended to have quite often in the Court. It made everything that much more  
, it made everything that much more difficult. However, Esme was worth moving about during a hangover for. Anyone else, he would have booted out with a few choice curses, blaming them rather then the vast amount of liquor he'd consumed  
that night forhis pounding headache. Not Esme. Because she was crying, hiding under the covers and clinging to him.

Under normal circumstances, he might have scooped the girl up and flipped her upside down to provoke a laugh from her. But when he tossed the covers off her head, Esmerelda looked so distressed, all Clopin could think to do was gather her into his armsas  
if she were still that six year old petit fille that had scraped her knee dancing in the dusty streets.

"What's happened, cherie?" He asked gently, splitting headache momentarily forgotten. Pulling out Puppet, he waved him around her face, rising his voice to a comical falsetto. "What's making our Esme cry? Tell me and I will go punish them!"

She sniffed brokenly, pushing Puppet away with one hand. "They've got Tadeo." She clung to his tunic, moments away from bursting into a fit of tears. "The Palace of Justice!"

Clopin launched himself off the bed, Esmerelda still in his arms as if she weighed less then a baby goat. The movement sent unpleasant spikes of pain through his pounding head, and he swayed unsteadily for a moment before he set her down and wasted preciousseconds  
finding and pulling on his battered hat and floppy curly toed shoes in the dark. Puppet had dropped to the group, and Clopin didn't even bother picking him back up.

Esme took his gloved hand in hers and tugged him after her out of the trailer. Together, they raced through the the Court of Miracles and out into the cool night air. The fresh air helped ease his aching head, but he was immeasurably grateful the skyabove  
was still dark.

His reaction, he knew, was a knee-jerk one. But it was the same reaction he'd had every time someone came to the Court with such news. Granted, there was not always anything he could do about it. But he was always up to try. Even if it was Tadeo. Thattroublemaker  
probably deserved what was coming to him. None the less, he was a gypsy after all. And Esme would not forgive him unless he at least tried to free the boy.

"What were you and Tadeo doing out so late in the night?" Clopin asked in his supercilious voice as they ran past closed shops and homes, raising his eyebrows playfully at her.

As expected, the girl ducked her head and refused to answer the question. Embarrassment radiated from her demenor.

He'd noticed that both the girl and her current love interest had been absent during the night. Clopin had decided not to worry. He knew Esme could take care of herself, and surely the boy would do nothing foolish as long as she was present. Evidentlyhe'd  
been wrong.

Tadeo was Esme's first love. Not like all those silly crushes she'd harboured for the gypsy boys she used to play with. She was still just a child, barely into her sixteenth year, yet, as much as Clopin would have liked to deny it, she was growing into  
/a strong, independent young woman. In his mind however, there was no doubt the boy would be only the first. Many more were sure to come. Esmerelda's fancy could last only so long. She was much too wild, free spirited. No man could ever tie her down.

Truth be told, Clopin did not mind Tadeo. He wasn't good enough for La Esmerelda, but then, no one ever could be. The boy was clever, a good performer. He pulled his own weight, and had defended those in danger. However, he was wreckless, as all youth  
/are. It was hardly surprising he'd gone and gotten himself captured.

They passed Notredame, it's tall pillars and soulless statues staring down at them making Clopin shiver. He had no love for the giant church and was glad to leave it behind.

Esme though, looked back until it was out of sight. She had no qualms about the building. As far as she was concerned, it was a place one might go for sanctuary, somewhere someone might hear if you prayed hard enough. Not that she'd converted to that  
/faith, but she'd told Clopin once that God, whoever he might be, could surely hear her no matter where she might be, and so many people bent their knees in there, why not give it a try?

He'd never understood that stance. But then, Clopin had never been a particularly religious man.

They cut down a street to the left. After an unfortunate gypsy was captured, they were taken to the Palace of Justice where they were questioned, tortured, and then hung come morning. A good hanging, of course, was cause for a gathering. A gypsy's final  
/performance. Clopin himself had cheated that particular performance once or twice.

The Palace of Justice was not a place Clopin preferred to frequent. As much as possible, he avoided being anywhere near it, however, over the years, he'd been in association with the dreadful building too many times. The damne place just didn't seem to  
/want to leave him and his people alone. The giant stone building was painfully easy to get into, yet not so easily escaped.

The streets of Paris were never completely deserted. Soldiers patrolled them, keeping an eye out for gypsies and any sort of trouble that might arise.

In her hast to get to the Palace of Justice and rescue her precious Tadeo, Esme very nearly slammed into just such a patrol.

Clopin had to haul her back before she ran right into the pair of fully armoured soldiers rounding the corner. He thought that as the one that was still a little bit under the affects of the alcohol, he should not have heard those clomping footsteps before  
/she did. She must have been quite upset to have missed it. He had not been quick enough to pull Esme out of the way so that the soldiers did not see her, as he might have been able any other time.

"Hey! Gypsy, stop!" One shouted as they both charged around the corner, giving chase as Clopin dragged Esme after him in the direction of Notredame, back the way they'd come.

The race was on.

Esme ran, sure footed beside him, even pulling ahead a little.

The soldiers, despite being weighed down by their armour and weapons, were keeping pace. Men like those had been made soldiers for a reason. Some might be dim witted, or incredibly stupid, but they were all very good athletes. Built for chasing, fighting,  
/and winning.

However, the advantage was clear. Those soldiers had probably not had to run for their very lives every time they stepped out of their homes. Clopin and Esmerelda had.

Notredame loomed over them. A big stone prison in Clopin's mind. A refuge in Esmerelda's. Together, they charged up the steps.

Clopin ripped open a heavy wooden door and shoved Esme inside before slipping in behind her, pulling the huge door shut.

"SANCTUARY!" Esme shouted at the top of her lungs.

Clopin knew that would not prevent the soldiers from entering, and he took Esme by the hand once more, pulling her further into the church.

As he'd predicted, the soldiers, unhindered, burst into the church after them, only moments later. If they could get away with it, they would break the so-called sanctity of the church and drag the gypsies outside to arrest them, simply for existing.  
/Because those were their orders, and orders were more important then some silly church's rules and rituals.

Really, if he'd stopped to think about his actions, Clopin may have called the mad dash to Notredame a leap of faith. He'd been banking on one single possibility. And he was very relieved to find it paid off. The one person that might be able to help  
/them was indeed present, awake, even at the exceedingly early hour.

The Archdeacon.

Dressed in his white robes with the telltale cross about his neck, the old man seemed to have been praying, kneeling at a pew at the front of the church. He stood abruptly, turning to the source of the interruption.

Clopin had never exchanged words with the Archdeacon before. Why would he? But, he had witnessed the man stand up for gypsies that had taken refuge inside the walls of his church, enforcing that one rule that worked in the gypsies favour, even when no  
/one else did.

And so, perhaps for the first time in his life, Clopin put his trust in a man of the cloth, ducking past the old man and crouching behind the pew the priest had been kneeling before, keeping the young Esmerelda close.

The Archdeacon stared at the pair of them. His gaze softened to something akin to pity, or perhaps compassion as he watched Esme quivering under Clopin's arm, which was thrown protectively over her shoulders. He'd probably seen the girl in the church  
/before, staring up at those giant stained glass windows. He turned to the soldiers, who had come to a hasty halt upon seeing who it was the pair of gypsies had taken refuge behind.

"No soldiers." The Archdeacon snapped in an impatient voice, waving his hands to shoo them back the way they'd come. "They've claimed sanctuary. Out, out!"

The soldiers guiltily backed off, slipping quietly back outside the big doors without protest, no doubt to wait the pursued out.

Hesitantly, as if the old priest might change his mind at any given moment, Clopin stood, pulling Esme up with him.

The Archdeacon turned and smiled kindly at them. "Fear not. They can do you no harm while you are in here."

Clopin said nothing.

"Thank you." Esme whispered.

The Archdeacon nodded at her. "You've come here looking for sanctuary." He spoke softly, yet his voice carried well in the vast church. "You are safe. But I suspect your problem, whatever it might be, is not solved. You may stay as long as you wish."  
/He turned from them, but paused. "It is nothing our Lord can not handle. All you need do, is ask." With one more smile cast over his shoulder, he left them alone, walking off to attend to some sort of church duty. In all honesty, Clopin had no idea  
/what the man must do with all his time. Light candles perhaps?

Clopin didn't think much on the old man's words, but he watched Esme eye the pew. He wouldn't stop her, though he didn't really approve.

But she didn't go to it, instead turning her big sorrowful green eyes up at him. "We're running out of time!"

She was right. The sun would be up all too soon, and the Judge Claud Frollo loved an early morning hanging. Only a few short hours remained for them to free Tadeo. And they were dwindling fast.

"Come cherie." He led her towards the back of the church where he knew there was another entrance.

The soldiers might have stuck around to guard the front entrance. But they hadn't bothered with the one in the back. Of course, they would have needed a small army to cover all the possible escape routs the cathedral had to offer. As it was, they ran  
/into no further problems as they slipped back out into the night and continued on to the Palace of Justice.

There was no one about as Clopin led Esmerelda closer to the falsely named palace. He wished he could have left her back at the Court of Miracles, but knew full well that the petit troublemaker would not have allowed it. Much like Clopin himself, she  
/was not one to sit idly by when there was work to be done.

She made to march right up to the giant fortress and, Clopin didn't know, knock on the huge wooden doors and demand the release of the wayward gypsy lad they'd picked up?

He gripped her by the wrist and pulled her along with him behind the stone wall before she could do anything so foolish.

When she glared indignantly at him and yanked her hand away, he placed a finger to his lips and then pointed to the parapets above, a sly grin on his face.

Esmerelda pressed her lips together as she looked up, up, up.

Clopin would have laughed at her expression of apprehension had he not been so on guard, careful of every sound he made. He'd rarely seen such a look from her. It was highly amusing.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: In The DarkestShadows

Clopin was used to heights. He was always scrambling up poles and running across rooftops. Yes, the parapets were slightly different from what he was used to, but he expected no trouble from the climb, even if his headache had not quite left him.

Esmerelda followed as closely as she could behind him as they began the climb, putting her feet and hands exactly where Clopin had put his, mirroring his every move, clutching at the stone in a white knuckled grip. Her breaths came out short and panicked,  
/but she was capable. And besides, Clopin would never let her fall.

"You are doing merveilleuse _cherie_." He encouraged when she froze for the third time, hugging the wall for safety. It took a few more moments, and Clopin had to exhaust his repertoire of encouraging words and phrases, but she eventually kept moving.

Finally, upon reaching a solid ledge where they could rest for a moment, Clopin gazed up at a parapet, examining it with a critical eye. He blew out a sigh and turned to the frazzled girl beside him. "If we wish to proceed, _cherie_ , we must do  
it

together." He wiggled his eyebrows at her playfully, though he wasn't sure she could see it in the dim light.

She looked at him. Instead of the expected reaction, anger, or indignation, she seemed only relieved. The girl wasted no time in scrambling onto his back, looping her arms firmly around his neck, and her legs abouthis waist.

The _petit chose_ might as well have been thin air. Clopin thought that he might have forgotten her presence altogether, were it not for her frantic breathing in his ear. He adjusted her, hitching her up further on his back before reaching up the  
wall

for the first handhold.

The climb was not so difficult that he feared for their lives, but by the time he hauled them both through the long, empty of glass window cut into the stone wall, his fingers ached from gripping the stone, and he was starting to feel Esme's extra weight.  
/Itwas very nearly dawn. The world was slowly brightening, adding an urgency to proceed as quickly as possible on their mission.

She clung to him a moment longer then necessary when he lowered them onto the wooden platform on the inside of the building. But then she slowly slipped off his back.

Clopin chuckled at her, clapping a leather clad hand over his mouth to avoid a full out laugh that might give away their position.

She glared venomously at him, jabbing an angry finger into his chest. "Don't you ever do that to me again." She hissed.

Loud clomping footsteps below caused the girl's eyes to widen and she crouched, trying to hide herself in the shadows, though they were not in easy sight of anyone.

Nonetheless, Clopin sank to his knees next to her and crawled to the edge of the platform, peering down.

Two guards were patrolling the hallways, dressedup in their usual full armour that looked ridiculously heavy and uncomfortable.

Clopin watched them until they turned a corner, disappearing from view. He glanced at Esmerelda over his shoulder and winked.

She grinned at him, any fear or anger of the previous moment forgotten.

Moving almost as one, as they had done so many times before, they dropped to the ground.

The hallway was lit by three torches, set at even intervals, and the two gypsies were quick to move through the hallway, pausing in the shadows when the slightest noise echoed in the vast hall.

Having visited the inside of the foul place a few times himself, Clopin knew where the gypsy prisoners were taken, and he took Esmerelda by the hand, leading her further into the Palace of Justice, deeper and deeper. The dungeon was not a cheerful place.  
/Clopin had spent a good amount of time in places that were not cheerful, but this one was by far the worst. It even beat the gallows, which could be quite festive, depending on who was at the end of the rope, and how he chose to take it.

Upon reaching the lowest of the low levels that were the bars they kept gypsy prisoners behind, Clopin felt a shudder rip through him. He himself had been to this foul prison, locked away like a dancing bear put out of commission. It was a memory he'd  
/fought hard to bury, but being in the damp, filthy place where gypsies were tortured and beaten down brought it to the surface where it burned across his skin. He turned his face from the girl, worried she might see it there in the flickering firelight  
/cast by the torches mounted on the wall. But the cells now stood empty. It had been a good few weeks for the gypsies. No one had been caught and imprisoned in that time. No one had been hung, or burned. Of course it had to be Tadeo that broke the  
/encouraging pattern. Of course it was him. Just another way for the boy to get himself on Clopin's bad side.

Esme ripped her arm from Clopin's grasp and rushed forward, ignoring his hissed warning that there may be a guard about. Even when she had throwncaution to the wind, Esmerelda was quick, and light on her feet, hardly making a sound as she rushed

from cell to cell, searching for the boy.

Perhaps that was why the guard did not hear her, or even get the opportunity to see her when he rounded a corner unexpectedly. She was quick to take refuge in the shadows, concealed successfully only because it seemed the guard had been dipping into some  
/private stock of liquor, against regulations.

Clopin scurried backwards, hiding himself in an empty prison cell until the guard had wondered off, stumbling about in a drunken stupor, helmet askew, armour clanking noisily when he came intocontact with the wall before disappearing around another  
/of the vast prison's corners. It was a wonder how the pair had not heard the inebriated soldier. It was not an encouraging sign. He was too focused on the girl, so set on ensuring that she made no more foolish mistakes that he was making them himself.  
/And it was unacceptable. If he was to find Tadeo and get them all out of this devilish place and back to the Court of Miracles, he had to perform at his best capacity. He was able. Unlike that guard, Clopin could still perform whileunder the

affects of the amber coloured liquid.

Slinking out of the cell, he found Esme still frozen in the shadows, and pulled her along after him, checking each cell as he went.

Tadeo did not occupy any of them.

Esme turned her big scared eyes up at Clopin, waiting for the explanation she knew he had.

He didn't word any, for fear of being overheard, even by that drunken soldier patrolling the dungeon. Instead, yanked the girl after him, towards a certain room that he'd gone to great pains to keep her from. The big wooden door was shut, keeping intruders  
/out, and for the most part, the screams inside. But it was not completely sealed off, and Clopin could hear the grunts of pain coming from within. No screams yet, that was encouraging.

Climbing up to the rafters, Clopin ducked into the room from above, Esme followed close behind.

Renaud. The Captain that carried out Frollo's orders, no matter how cruel. Serious, lethal, and cunning, the man was merciless as the Judge he obeyed. He was tall and thin as rail with the blackest hair and eyes that were soulless deeporbs with

no shred of human feeling in them. The only time those eyes betrayed any true emotion, was when he was torturing a victim, twisting the knife handle, delivering a twelve year old boy to the hangman, slitting the throat of an innocent. Then, they shone  
/with wicked pleasure. The only weakness the man was known for, was his fear of the dead, and very few indeed knew of that. Clopin was one of those few. He'd used it to his advantage once before.

And Tadeo. The boy was only a year older then Esmerelda, no matter how often he insisted he was older, a man. Oh, but he could never have fooled even the _gadjo's_. He was far too childish. His hair was always unkempt, and his clothes werealways  
/hanging off his skinny frame. Now, they were torn and bloody. He slumped forward in thechair he was boundto, and though he couldn't see the boy's face, Clopin imagine a bloody nose, black eyes, perhaps a few abrasions from being beaten.

Had he spoken? Revealed anything to his tormentor?

"This is all unnecessary." Renaud purred, circling the gypsy boy with slow, patient steps. "Tellme where the other gypsy vermin are,and things will be much easier foryou."

No, the boy had not revealed the Court's location. Relief flooded Clopin's veins, even though he'dknown Tadeo would not reveal his people's home. No gypsy ever would. They were a tight woven group, a family. Families do not betray one another. All  
/the same, it was going to get very difficult for the boy because of his stand. Clopin could tell, watching the wicked Captain below.

Renaud's fists had begun to shake in rage. Through his face betrayed no outward emotion, his eyes lit up with that malicious light that meant he would enjoy what he did next. In one quick, precise motion, the Captain drew his sword from its holster at  
/his belt, and brought the hilt down on Tadeo's exposed head, causing the boy to yelp in pain.

In the dim lighting, Clopin could see a scarlet substance covering the sword's hilt.

Esme squeaked, a shocked, broken sort of sound.

Clopin reacted quickly, pressing his hand over her mouth and pulling her further into the shadows. _Merde_. He should have left the girl behind.

Renaud had looked up sharply at the noise, leaving Tadeo to slump in his chair. The man cast his eyes about the room in search of the source. Those hateful, calculating eyes felt as though they could pierce through the gloom, expose the pair, and pull  
/them out of their hiding place. But finally, he turned his attention back to the boy in the chair before him. "Must I ask again?" He reached down and gripped Tadeo's chin, forcing him to look the man in the eye.

Clopin inched backwards, Esme tucked securely in his arms. She didn't fight him as he'd expected, only turned and buried her face in his tunic as they crept back into the safety of the rafters. Once they'd dropped to the ground silently outside the dreadful  
/room, The guard had made his way back around. He didn't see them, for they'd taken up refuge in another of the empty cells.

Esme didn't ask what the plan was. She trusted Clopin more then anyone else. He himself thought that was not particular healthy of her, not that he would for even one second consider harming her. But she should not have been entrusting her life to anyone  
/but herself. Despite the gypsies being a family of sorts, in the end, one could only count on themselves. It was a cruel lesson, one Clopin sometimes doubted she would ever learn. Of course, that was a thought that would have to wait for later.

Clopin moved with quick efficiency, unwinding the short length of rope he usually kept about his waist. He'd not even bothered removing it when he'd dropped into bed after the revelries, having quite forgotten it was there. How gratefulhewas

he had. One end was already tied in a noose, and he tossed it over the top bars of the cell, stepping back into the darkest corner.

Esme understood immediately and shestepped forward, pressing her face to the bars and gripping them with her hands. She reached out as the guard passed by them, catching hold of his arm, causing him to jump in fright. "Please _Monsieur_! Please  
/help me!" She hissed, yanking him closer, careful not to make too much noise so as to alert the cruel Captain currently interrogating Tadeo.

Clopin quickly lowered the rope and slipped the noose about the guard's thick neck, pulling sharply on the other end to tighten the noose.

The guard gagged and clawed at the rope about his neck, not making as much noise as Clopin had expected him too. Perhaps the alcohol was partly due to that fact. It was a good warning as to what harm the dulling liquid could cause, one that Clopin stubbornly  
/refused to acknowledge. They were all for the rope in the end, why not have a little fun?

The guard was a heavy set fellow, even without all the armour he would have outweighed Clopin by at least a hundred pounds. He yanked harder on the rope, knowing there was no way he could lift the soldier off the ground on his own.

Esme was quick to lend her efforts to the struggle, gripping the rope above Clopin's hands and putting her meagre weight into it, her bare feet skittering across the dusty ground in an attempt to gain purchase.

Together, they still stood no chance of lifting the soldier off his feet, but they kept him from freeing himself. They held firm until the guard ceased to struggle and hung limp. Then they let him fall to the ground with a heavy thump.

Clopin leapt toward him and reached through the bars to check for a pulse. Still there, and he was breathing once more. As a rule, Clopin did not like, or trust the soldiers. They had captured and hung too many of his people. But he had no interest in  
/killing a man who was too drunk to tell he was being attacked. What was the fun in that? Also, Esme was right there, and she didn't need the blood on her, maybe not completely innocent hands either.

He could tell she was more bothered then she liked to let on when she knelt next to him, brushing the blonde hair out of the guards eyes. Her voice shook when she said: "Ooh! _Il est beau, n'est-ce pas_?"

Clopin quirked an eyebrow at her and let his mouth droop down in an unimpressed expression. " _Ta gueul_." He snapped, though she knew he was not seriously upset with her. How could he be? He was the one, after all who had taught her to laugh through  
/her tears. That way no one could hurt you. That way no one could tell they'd upset you. All the same, he didn't particularly like that the girl was using the trick on him.

He stood and exited the cell, Esme following close behind. Taking the soldier by one armour clad arm, he nodded for Esme to do the same. Together, they dragged the unconscious soldier into the cell, away from any prying eyes that might come looking for  
/him, and began removing the armour piece by piece.

* * *

 **Renaudis the Captain that came before Pheobus showed up. Since all we know of that former Captain was that he disappointed Frollo, I took some creative liberty.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Tragedy of the Outcasts

Renaud had lost his meagre supply of patience. The boy was not speaking. At least he wasn't wisecracking anymore, but all the same, he wasn't getting the information he wanted so desperately.

The room was so far removed from any window, that it was difficult to gage the time of day. But it had to be getting close to morning.

The sleepless night left Renaud irritable, ready to hang the uncooperative gypsy boy and be done with it.

The boy was very nearly unconscious, exhausted from the long night.

Kneeling in front of the chair he was tied to, Renaud gripped his chin, forcing the gypsy to look him in the eye. "Your last chance has come, boy." He snarled venomously. "Tell me where the court is."

The boy said nothing.

Releasing him, Renaud stood up, glaring down at what he considered filth beneath his boots. "Poor choice." He might have pulled back to deliver another punch to the boys battered face, but there was three slow knocks at the door. Grumbling at the interruption  
/and thinking it was one of his soldiers come to tell him it was daybreak, time to hang the gypsy, he left the boy and went to the door.

What he saw, made him reel back in terror. Not a soldier. It couldn't armour hung off it like a sick joke. A hang noose dangled about the chain mailed neck. And under the helmet, was a grinning skull.

"Demon!" Renaud's voice shook. He stood frozen, staring in horror at the apparition in front of him.

It took one lumbering step into the room, the armour clanking emptily as it advanced, reaching out a thickly gloved hand in front of it. "Re-Renaud." A raspy, shaking voice said through the armour. "C-captain."

Renaud shook his head, over and over again. "N-no. No!" He hissed. "You're dead. Dead!"

"C-captain? Please, help." The thing took another clanking step toward him, holding out both hands, palms up. "Please." It begged in its choking, halting, otherworldly voice.

"No!" Renaud suddenly sprang into action, dodging around the horrible being and fleeing out the open door. His shouts rang back through the tunnels, full of terror.

Cackling. Vey evil, yet familiar cackling. The skull popped out of the helmet and painstakingly, the armour was removed piece by piece. Clopin was glad to be rid of the cumbersome weights. He couldn't understand how the soldiers could move about so easily  
/in the stuff.

Someonechuckled weakly from the centre of the room. Tadeo, slumped brokenly in his chairwas grinning, squinting his eyes painfully. "You'd make a good soldier, Clopin."

"That's Trouillefou to you." Clopin told him, irritated as he struggled out of the too big and heavy boots. Normally, the gypsy King preferred people to call him by his first name. But the boy was being obnoxious. And Clopin was quickly losing the need  
/to joke around. Hiding your tears with humour was one thing, hiding your anger with it only applied during a performance. And rather then just a headache, his whole body was beginning to feel sluggish and achy. All he could think about was that bunk  
/waiting for him back at the Court. Discarding the heavy gloves and breast plate, heretrieved the dagger from his belt. Cutting through the ropes took more time then Clopin had guessed it would, and as he sawed through them, he called the boy

every curse and insulting name he could think up, half the time unsure if he was only thinking them, or if he'd said them out loud.

Finally, the ropes fell away and the boy sprang up like a jack-in-the-box. " _Merci mon capitaine_!" He snapped off a jerky salute.

Turning away abruptly, Clopin tucked the dagger away and went to the open doorway. "Come on, you fool. Let's go find your _amour_ , hm?"He did not turn around to register the boy's reaction, but imagined a healthy amount of embarrassment on his  
/face.

Tadeo followedafter him, paces uneven, limping. Yes, Tadeo irritated Clopin to no end, despite it being very hard to truly anger the gypsy King. But, the boy was still one of his people, and rage crawled up his throat at what had been done to him.  
/As he emerged into the hallway, Clopin thought about what sort of revenge he could exact upon that _salaud_ capitain. As such, he was unprepared for what awaited them.

"Come out of hiding have we, apparition?"

Clopin froze. He could feel the boy tense behind him.

Renaud. The evil captain stood in the shadows, a crazed grin on his face. Worse, a struggling, fury-emitting Esmerelda held captive, sword drawn across her thin, unblemished neck.

Clopin swore if he left a single mark on the girl, he'd personally see the wicked man to the gates of hell. And he'd stay there with him, just to torment him in ways even the devil himself couldn't come up with. Because if Renaud hurt Esme, Clopin would  
/have nothing to lose. Unhealthy thoughts. He was the King. He had more people then just LaEsmerelda to worry after. But it was Esme. His little, fierce, passionate Esme.

"Let her go!" Tadeo's shout startled Clopin out of his dark thoughts. The boy tried to throw himself at the captain.

Clopin held him back. It was surprisingly difficult. He would have thought the boy a little weaker due to the injuries he'd sustained. But he pulled against him with surprising strength, his only thought to rescue Esme. He wouldn't be able to tell, but  
/he'd just won a few points in Clopin's book. "Careful," he cautioned. "You do not want to spook the wild animal."

Renaud growled.

Esme cursed at him, spitting out words any other sixteen year old girl would not, or should not know.

"What do expect to happen here, captain?" He asked the volatile man, keeping his eyes firmly on him and not Esme. He tailored his words so they sounded smooth and indifferent coming from his mouth, though he really wanted to yell, snarl, and curse. Clopin  
/was a word smith. People came to him for his words, his performances. He could always talk his way free of a nasty situation. Always.

"What I expect to happen," Renaud snarled. "Is that I am going to rid the city of one more filthy gypsy this night. And hang two more come daybreak. No more will I be haunted by you and your minions."

Perhaps it had not been wise to frighten the man with a makeshift ghost. Clopin drew his dagger once more. "If that is indeed your plan, captain, why have you not yet carried it out?"

Tadeo dug his elbow into Clopin's side, trying, it seemed, to shut him up.

Annoyed, Clopin brought his foot up and kicked him, causing the boy to yelp.

"Back into the room! Or I'll slit her throat!" Renaud bellowed, pressing the blade closer to Esme's neck.

Panic ignited in his chest, and he fought to keep it at bay. Panic was dangerous on the inside, if revealed on the outside, it could become fatal. So, he kept his voice light as he responded to the threat. "Yes, you keep saying that. But I ambeginning  
/to think you don't really mean it." He flipped the dagger into the air, caught it between two fingers, tossed it again, balanced the sharp tip on one finger, flipped it again, caught it firmly by the hilt and held it at the ready.

Tadeo made a sort of strangled sound in the back of his throat. That was the problem with gypsies. No trust.

Renaud looked at the two of them standing there, crazed eyes flicking between him and the boy. "You-you're unarmed!" His voice unsure. A man like Renaud did not count a measly little dagger as a threat. And why would he? He was the Captainof the

soldiers. He was armed with the precisely sharpened weapon of a soldier. He had a hostage. He was thought invincible by many people. Therefore, he was correct. The two gypsies standing before him were unarmed.

Clopin did not respond.

It was Esme who spoke up when neither Clopin, nor Tadeo took the opportunity. Esme, who was the hostage. Esme, who had the sword pressed up against her flesh. Esme, who snapped and growled as if she were under no threat at all. "And you are outnumbered!"  
/She couldn't twist to see the man, but she held herself tall and proud. "Yourmen are drunk, stumbling about like a lot of chickens with their heads cut off! You have no assistance. You are at our mercy."

Clopin couldn't help but chuckle. She was acting, yes. He could tell she was frightened, her fisted hands shaking at her sides. But she had always been one of their best actors, and the performance she was giving was spectacular. And so, taking his cue  
/from the brave girl held captive, Clopin joined into the lie. "She is correct, Captain. Therefore, I have a proposition for you." He paused dramatically, expecting his adversary to sputter some more threats. When he didn't, he continued. "Release  
/the girl, and we will not kill you."

Renaud was not a stupid man. He was adept at recognizing a bluff. And the gypsies had just bluffed in an enormous way. However, that did not mean he could easily accomplish what he'd said he would. For he had bluffed as well. He could kill the girl, maybe  
/even that boy. But he could not kill them all at once, and that posed a serious problem. Werehe to focus his attack on one man, the other would attack him. There was no telling if he would succeed in subduing them all. And so, ever a man for

a good bargain, Renaud made his own proposition. "My men came in with a prisoner this night. There must be one in the morning to hang."

Clopin considered. The thought of one of them staying behind was not a preferable one. He'd come to free one of his people and return home with three gypsies intact. Renaud might not be able to kill them all, but he could, quite easily kill Esme. If there  
/was another option, his mind was too frantic to recognize it. He stood taller. "Very well. Take your hands off her," he paused for a moment, spreading his arms wide, dropping the dagger that had only moments before been spinning onhis fingers

as if he hadn't a care in the world. "And you can have me."

"NO!" Esme screamed the word, kicking out, trying desperately to break free. The fear she'd concealed so well all at once bubbled to the surface, and she was frightened. She was so frightened.

Tadeo, said nothing. While he knew that Clopin was more valuable to the Court then Esme was, he could not bring himself to stop the foolish plan. Not if it meant Esmerelda would com away unharmed.

Clopin forced himself to look away from her, certain she would notforgive him for whathe was doing. "How about it, Captain? Her, for me."

Renaud narrowed his eyes, suspecting some form of treachery, and rightly so. If there was one thing Clopin could be relied upon for, it was his tricks. And he'd pulled so many on the Captain. He felt certain the man bargaining for the girl's life before  
/him, was planning something devious.

But Clopin slowly walked toward the Captain, palms up, face void of all jest. He halted in front of him, waiting for his response. It was another damned leap of faith. Another gamble. Only this time, the stakes were far higher, the consequences so verydangerous.

Renaud shoved Esme away from himself and held the tip of the sword instead to Clopin's neck.

Painfully aware of the cool metal pressed against his skin, Clopin stood rigidly. One move, one flick of the wrist would end his games for good. His mind reached out for a good joke for Esme, something to make her believe that it wasn't all that bad.  
/But he came up blank. The possibility that the Captainwould end his life right then and there was frightening, but unlikely. Renaud was very fond of hangings, and the gypsy King was someone he'd waited a long time to see dangle.

Esme had been shoved into Tadeo, and he'd tried to hold onto her, pull her away from the horrible scene playing out in front of them. But she'd pushed herself away from him and dove to the ground, handsskittering across the filthy groundfor

the discarded dagger. Upon finding it, she'd lunged.

Everyone shouted. Everyone dove for the girl.

The dagger did not find its mark.

The sword did.

Blood puddled on the ground. The players of this particular act allfroze.

Tadeo collapsed. The sword piercing him right through his chest. His eyelids fluttered once before growing still. He stared up, sightless, into the dark cavernous ceilingabove their heads. Never to dance, or jest, or get into trouble ever again.

Esmerelda screamed.

Clopin threw himself at the Captain, he'd somehow gotten his dagger back in his hand and he attacked wildly, blinding by rage, and pain.

Having not held onto the sword, his sole means of defence, Renaud screamed when the dagger sliced across his face. It blinded his eye, and left a deep groove down the side of his face. Blood poured freely from the wound, staining his golden armour. But  
/Renaud was a veteran of many a battle, and accustomed to pain. He launchedinto action, retrieving his sword from the dead boy's thin chest and jabbing it in his attacker's direction.

His aim was off, his vision having been unexpectedly cut in half, and the sword merely cut through Clopin's tunic as he danced out of the way.

Clopin was no fool, at least, not when he wasn't performing. He knew perfectly well he would not be able to defend himselfand Esme against the armed captain of the soldiers. She would get hurt, or be killed. That left merely one option, and Clopin  
/took it without hesitation. He grabbed hold of Esme, who had fallen beside Tadeo, sobbing, and dragged her along behind him.

The girl dug her heels in, trying to stop him, to go back.

But Renaud had given chase.

Clopin swept her up into his arms and ran. At first, she fought. But eventually only sobbed into his shoulder.

Renaud, wounded as he was, was not able to give chase for very long, and he fell behind.

After the ordeal in the dungeon, sneaking past the patrolling soldiers was child's play, and Clopin was able to set Esme down so she could run on her own. They had to escape the Palace before Renaud sounded the alarm, setting his soldiers after them.

They'd scaled the outside wall, and in their haste, it had taken half the amount of time it had taken to climb up it.

Once his feet hit the ground, Clopin had swept the girl up again and ran into the city of Paris. The sky was lighter, the sun just beginning to cast its light across the world.

Esme clung to his neck, crying her heart out for the boy they'd left behind. She didn't fight, or accuse him of running like a coward. She only cried.


	4. Chapter 4

**Final chapter. Hope there is someone out there reading this.**

* * *

Chapter 4: Are You Happy _Cherie_?

Tadeo was a gypsy. He made people laugh for a living. He was young, had much life yet to live. His years had been cut far too short. There were surprisingly few things to say when the young died. There were laments to their youth, prayers for their  
/souls. Tadeo would regarded a hero by his people. His story would be told around the fires on cold winter nights. Songs in his honour would be sung to amuse a passing villager, entice a coin or two out of their pocket. But eventually, his memory  
/would grow dimmer with passing time. He would not be remembered as a person, but as a figure. Except by one man.

Clopin Trouillefou remembered all of those of his people who were killed. He remembered every person that had been hung, stabbed, beheaded, drowned for the sake of the people. Because no matterhow loud they sang, or how hard they danced, or

how many laughs they provoked, his people were viewed as a threat to the common man's immortal soul. He remembered them all. But he remembered Tadeo above every single one. The boy that laughed louder then anyone. The boy that pranced around like  
/a proud colt showing off. The boy that ran, laughing through the streets. The boy that had given his life for hisEsme.

It had been years since he'd thought of that night. But he remembered, as if it had only just transpired. There was no grave sight for him to visit. No plot of land designated to cradle the boy's body in death. Tadeo's remains had been burned. But  
/Clopin thought it was better that way anyways. Instead of being encased in the unforgiving earth, stuck in one spot for all eternity, or at least until the worms got at you, Tadeo was set free to the wind. His ashes blowing about all over the

world, visiting every place he'd said he wanted to go. It was a much more pleasant thought. Clopin wasn't sure he believed there was anything after death. He didn't put much stock into heaven or hell. If there was indeed, heaven, why would God  
/want suchsinful beings in his presence? He'd made the earth for a reason, right? No, Clopin felt sure that the heavens belonged to God, the earth to men.

Why those particular thoughts were plaguing him that sunny morning was beyond him. All he should have been doing, was celebrating, as everyone else was. The celebration after that bloody battle at Notredame the day before had lasted two days. At first,  
/he'd gladly joined into the dancing, singing, and of course, drinking. But as the night wore on, thoughts of that one single lost life rose up, refusing to let him enjoy the celebration. Perhaps it was plaguing his mind due to Esme's new lover.

There she was, after all, leading him around in song and dance, skirts swirling, tambourine in hand,as if she had not almost been burned at the stake merely hours before. How very ironic that she'd fallen for the Captain. The man who'd taken

up the position of the man that had killed the boy she'd loved.

If Clopin thought he'd disliked Tadeo all those years ago, this blonde soldier positively drove him mad. Esmerelda seemed to know it too, as she had been either too busy, or else outright avoiding him. They'd had one brief exchange, after the hunchback  
/had been carried off, heralded as the hero. She'd smelled like smoke, and Clopin had damned near cried right there in front of everyone. Curse the girl for being the only one able to provoke such a reaction out of him. They'd spoken briefly of  
/the Court, and the new freedoms the gypsies could now enjoy, yet she'd steered clear of the subject of Pheobus. The man Clopin had nearly hung. The man Clopin still wished a little bit that he had hung. While it was true he'd never imagined Esme  
/settling down with any man from the court, he'd certainly never thought she'd sell out for a soldier. The captain of the soldiers no less. But she wasn't the only one avoiding him. That Captain also seems to be going out of his way to steer clear  
/of him. Not that it wasn't expected, considering the almost hanging.

Clopin didn't think Esme had explained the situation they found themselves in to her beloved Captain. Otherwise, Clopin was sure he would have already been badgering him for his blessing. A man like Pheobus, despite being quite dim, was honourable.  
/Howfun it would be to make him of course Esme decided not to tell him at all, which would hardly be surprising. She was fiercely independent and never one to ask for permission. Thus, Clopin decided that he would allow

her to approach him if she so wished. After all, what was the blessing of a poor gypsy really worth?

People still crowdedthe streets in front of the cathedral, conversing, and dancing, and singing. Clopin navigated through the mob, andsoon found himself standing in front of Notredame herself. Oh, how he'd despised the place once upon

a time.

The building itself had not saved his Esme, he knew. No, the hunchback, Quasimodo had done that. But, at the same time, while he'd been locked in that demeaning cage, it had seemed as though the cathedral itself had defended her alongside its misshapen  
/inhabitant. On the other hand, perhaps he'd had too much to drink. He'd lost track of how much he'd had. The bottle in his hand could have been his second, or his tenth for all he knew.

"Clo?" A hesitant, familiar voice said behind him.

He smiled and turned from the looming church.

She stood there before him, eyes shifting nervously, not once landing on his. She'd borrowed a skirt and top from some other gypsy woman, discarding the white robe she'd been forced into for her execution. They weren't her usual colours, but she was  
/still a beauty.

"Finished your celebrations so soon?" He asked in falsetto, puppet appearing on one hand.

She finally met his eyes, smiling faintly as she approached and took the half empty bottle from the hand not occupying puppet. Which she then upended on the steps of Notredame.

Anyone else, Clopin would have probably tackled. Not Esme. He merely chuckled, leaning back against a pillar. "You spoil my fun, Cherie." Puppet went back into his usual pocket, probably not to make another appearance.

"Pheobus," Esme said abruptly in a halting voice. She didn't continue, averting her eyes.

Clopin crossed his arms. So she did want to have this conversation. That was mildly surprising. He waited for her to continue.

"Pheobus is a good man." She said, finally deigning to look at him as she spoke. Her hands nervously rung the materials of her skirts, and she shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable. Much like Clopin himself, Esme didn't like sticking around for  
/serious conversations, but she knew this was not one that could be easily outrun, so she stayed put.

"He is an idiot." That had come out wrong. Truthful, but not tactful in true Trouillefou form. He hadn't meant to be so harsh with her, and it only made her square her shoulders and glare at him.

"It was no fault of his!" She snapped. "He was only trying to warn us!"

Clopin grinned wryly. "Ah, Esme. He lead all the Kings soldiers, and all the Kings men to the Court in a brash act of stupidity." He'd pushed himself off the pillar and slowly advanced toward her. "Now the rest of us are left to put Humpty Dumpty

back together and your precious Pheobus is unconcerned. And you, ma cherie, expect me to believe it was not his fault?"

Esme lifted her chin defiantly. "Should I take this to mean you hate Quasimodo as well?"

Ah, she was clever, and his smile became genuine. "Touché. But you must admit, it is rather difficult to stay angry with him."

Her expression softened a little, and for a moment, Clopin thought she might smile. But her face hardened. "That's not fair, Clopin."

"Paris is not fair, Esmerelda." He could feel his own hands fisting in anger. "It will break your heart."

"Must you be so cynical?" Esme threw her hand up, exasperated.

"Must you be so trusting?" Clopin nearly shouted. Anger was quick to come, much quicker then he would have liked.

Esme had mirrored his stance, or had he mirrored hers? He wasn't certain anymore. Her hands had freed themselves from her skirt, and she glared dangerously in a way Clopin had come to fear from her.

Perhaps it was because she looked so much like her six year old self, pouting because he'd refused to take her with him to the market, or perhaps it was the drink, twisting his emotions, making himangry and happy and frustrated all at once,but

Clopin suddenly burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, falling back against the pillar and wheezing, unable to take in enough air.

Then, Esme was laughing too.

Together, they howled with laughter, at the situation, at the words they'd exchanged, at the impossible, wonderful, and terrible few days they'd been through.

Finally, gasping for air, Esme collapsed into Clopin, who wound his arms about her as the last of the giggles left him.

For a few moments, all eithercould do was cling to the other and breath.

A seriousness had entered Clopin's voice when he at last spoke. "I have a question for you. And you must promise to answer truthfully."

Esme did not answer right away, possibly teasing him. But finally, she consented, nodding her head against his shoulder. "I promise, Clo."

Clopin took a steadying breath before asking the question. It was one he'd asked her many times. Sometimes dreading the answer, sometimes knowing it without having to ask at all. Now, he found he wasn't sure what her answer would be, and that was

terrifying. "Are you happy, _cherie_?" He didn't push her away to look her in the eye as he asked his question, unwilling to let her go just yet.

This time, Esme did not torture him with her teasing silence. She threw her arms about his neck and pressed her forehead into his, making him look her in the eye as she answered. "Happier then I've ever been." It was the truth. She'd lied so many

times when he'd asked her that question. She'd tried to hide how much she was hurting. He'd asked her it a few months after Tadeo. She'd told him she thought she could never be happy again. He hadn't asked her again until now.

Clopin nodded. He still didn't like that soldier. But that didn't matter. She was happy. Really, genuinely happy. She wasn't just smiling through her tears, and because of that, Clopin owed that _salaud_ Captain in a big way. "Very well." He pushed  
/her back and smiled. "Go find your soldier then, Esme. Don't bring him back here yet, or I may accidentally punch him in the face."

She frowned, confused, opening her mouth to voice some question.

"You do not need my permission, but you have it nonetheless."

It was almost comical how fast her face brightened. She turned quickly to run down the steps. "Thank you, Clo!"

Clopin watched her disappear into the crowd. He shook his head, the smile dropping off his face when she was out of sight. She was still such a child.


End file.
